Forsaken Howls
by Zvezda616
Summary: A young woman wakes up on a hospital bed with blank spaces for memories. Nothing seems to be right anymore - lest of all herself. An imminent danger lurks deep inside her subconscious mind, and the lines between right and wrong were never so thin. It is bizarre how the simplest of things can make a world of difference when a soul is divided...
1. Blank Space

**Disclaimer: The copyrights of any and all Marvel's characters that may appear in this work belong to Marvel and their respective owners. I claim no ownership over any trademark present or implicated during this work. The only things I own here are my plot ideas and my original characters (OCs).**

 **AN: Hello my dear fellows! I'm here to present you to the first chapter of my newest fanfiction, "Forsaken Howls"! Now, for those of you who are familiar with my other fanfiction, "Down With The Fallen", know that this is part of Down With The Fallen's universe, and the events described here will have an impact on the later chapters you might end up reading up there.**

 **Do pay in mind, though, that you do not need to follow Down With The Fallen to be able to understand and enjoy Forsaken Howls. And expect chapters between 2 and 4 thousand words, as opposed to Down With The Fallen's recent 9 thousand.**

 **ENJOY!**

 **PS: This work is unbetaed. If you happen to find any mistakes with the text (that are not deliberated), feel free to review or pm me with details. To the ones who aren't found of registering themselves into sites, pay in mind you can review someone's work as a guest.**

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 **Arch 1 - The Lost And The Damned  
** **Chapter 1 - Blank Space**

She had lost count of the many hours she spent staring out the window. The movement outside grew and dimmed as it saw fit, and there was no doubt in her mind that the image of each tree branch and falling leaf was forever imbued in her brain. She was hard-pressed to understand if such a big range of details were the cause of her strong headache, but she didn't knew when it had started, and anything she might concluded would be but speculation. Even more so when she couldn't bring a lone memory to mind.

The realization sent a shiver up her spine, but it might have been the wind. Someone had left the window opened, and it wasn't shy of entering her room, after all. But it didn't really mattered in the end. Not when the face the window's glass reflected back at her was far from the one she expected to see, anyway.

A loud metallic sound broke her from her thoughts. Her eyes left the stranger in the window to gaze at the stranger in white that entered her room with a notepad almost glued to his face. It took the door to close itself behind his back for him to look up from his notes.

"Oh!" His voiced betrayed his surprise. Could it be that he knew who she was? Was he the one that put her in such a situation? Did he knew what had happened to her face? Was he the one to blame for it? "I'm really glad to see you awake, Miss Craterside." Her eyes narrowed. It did not felt like her name at all. She made sure to look around the room to see if there was someone else she hadn't noticed before, but the only other bed was emptier has her memories seemed to be.

"I understand that it's been a quite traumatic experience for you" he went on when she offered him no reply. She knew better than to trust a stranger's words. "But it's essential that I evaluate your health before I even begin to consider letting you out of this hospital room -even more so now that you're finally awake. Sadly, the process is a little complex, and thus I would appreciate it if you would be so kind as to cooperate with me. Besides, I believe it would be best for all these tests to be done with when your parents arrive, don't you think so?"

So many things were terribly wrong that she couldn't pinpoint what weirded her out the most: the fact his parents were dead and gone and surely would never, ever, visit her again; the face she knew not to be hers and yet refused to be replaced in all of her reflections; the bizarre way in which she knew such things about herself when she had literally no memories to hold onto, or the strangely cold tone the man used to speak of her "parents".

Her insides burned with a hunger for her to bolt out the window never to look back. The fall to the floor would be a high one, but something kept telling her it would not harm her at all. That particular fight, though, was not won by her insides, and thus she gave him a simple nod and waited for his instructions as how to proceed.

The doctor - as he called himself - conducted a small variation of tests on her and was surprisingly able to obtain far more information than she was willing to give. She did not expected him to jolt down so many notes when she refused to speak a word to his seemingly endless waves of questions. She had not even noticed her lack of words until said fact was mentioned in a break between questions. She knew perfectly where her desire not to speak grew from, but was far from ready to acknowledge what such realization entailed.

Another surprise was the comprehension she was able to see hidden deep inside the doctor's eyes. He was far too understanding of her wishes and seemed a little too pleased by her nods and grunts for his own good. But it did not last long, for as soon as the other tests were done with, his focus zeroed back on her ability to speak.

"I am not oblivious to how taxing this whole thing can be for a patient's mind..." He began with a gentle tone. She braced herself for the inevitable demand, anyway. "But I need to know why exactly you refuse to speak."

Her eyes stare at him as her mind drowned itself in it's turmoil. His decision not to aid her was final and he refused to ask her the questions they both knew he could. Her heart drummed wildly in her ears and she could feel an ache crawl up from it's resting place inside her chest. It only grew worse by the second and there was no doubt that her breaths were fuel to it's raging fire.

She finally gave in to all the pressure, but her whisper was just too raspy and low for her own ears. She had not noticed the dryness of her throat until she had tried to make an use out of it, and now it seemed like sand could drip from it's walls.

"I-" she almost made it, but her throat hurt and she couldn't hold the fit of coughs she let out. She took some time to regain her breath before she tried again. "I'm just unsure of how my voice will sound" She managed, but even though the raspy aspect of her voice wasn't as present, she had no doubt that the voice was not hers. The most bizarre of it all, though, was the fact that it did not sound foreign to her ears, too. It was like it belonged to her and yet it was utterly misplaced at the same time.

"Understandable" the doctor went on with his explanations of 'whys' and 'hows', but she only half listened to his voice. None of his explanations would be close to her reasoning, and, even if somehow they ended up close to it, she wouldn't know it, anyway. His last words owned her full attention, though. "...you've been out for three days, after all."

"Three days?" She wondered out loud. It did felt like many restless days had passed, but if the information was true, then what the hell had happened to her? Three days was far too long of a time for someone to remain unconscious. It was unhealthy in so many levels she'd waste a great deal of time just to try and list it. But, most importantly, what could have happened in such short time to change her whole self? Things didn't felt right. Thing didn't felt right at all.

"Indeed..." He made a brief pause, as if to weigh his own words. "To be completely honest with you, we believed you to be a goner from the very beginning. The shape in which you arrived was really far from acceptable, I tell you. Many would consider you healing from it a miracle on itself - imagine doing so in three days, no less. Not to mention our searches found no signs of the X-gene, so your healing was not triggered by any mutations to your DNA."

"X-gene?"

"The mutant gene." He explained. As if such a brief thing could somehow make her comprehend the science behind it. Her eyes must have told what she thought, for he went on with his explanation as soon as he gazed into them. "Many patients have been showing up in the last three decades with a genetic mutation present in their bodies. The scientific community decided it was a good idea to call it the 'X-gene' for no other reason than it looking like an 'X' when observed through the lens of a microscope." He allowed her a moment for the information to sink in before proceeding. "But, as a doctor, I'm personally aware that there is no use in dwelling upon such things as 'what ifs'."

She offered him a nod, but made sure to retain the information for later. There was no telling how useful it could prove to be, after all. Even more so when the range of things her mind proved unable to remember was far bigger than she originally thought.

"What is the last thing you remember?" The question caught her off guard. Her memory was but a fading blur she couldn't always make sense of, and the few times she could were filled by unimportant things whose meaning she couldn't understand.

"I was eating dinner in my room." The words were a bucket to her rational thoughts. She had not intended to say such things, for they were part of a memory she knew not to possess. Yet, bizarrely alike to the sound of her voice, it did not seemed to be misplaced. It was like it made sense. "It was raining hard and I watched it from a window. I remember fear, but don't know from what. I think it might have been the downpour itself, but I am not sure."

"There was a storm about six days ago" he nodded as he took some notes. "The skies have been emptier than my wife's promises to leave me alone ever since" he joked, but did not strayed from his notepad. "But enough questions for now. You need to rest for a while. We'll need some hours until we're able to decide if you're free to go."

There was a despair that filled her core ever since the time she woke up on that bed, and it grew worse as the thought of leaving the room found a way to sink enough to reach her heart. Many truths waited for her beyond the door, but she knew that she was not ready to face them at all. Not as exhausted as she felt, anyway.

"Well..." Her eyes followed the doctor's footsteps as he made his way to the exit. He stopped short of leaving the room and stared back at her eyes. "I need to go now. But don't worry too much about them, kid. They are not here yet."

He left her alone before she had the chance to ask him what he meant. All she managed to do was to fall back on top of the bed and release a frustrated grunt. The man knew exactly how to infuriate her, and the fact he did not realized it made it all worse.

It didn't took long for her eyes to drift back to the landscape outside and for a heavy breath to escape from the clutches of her throat. It was strange how doing nothing could prove to be so taxing to a person's body.

Things were about to get too complicated for her own good...

##

Many thoughts raced through her head during the hours she was forced to rest on the hospital bed. A nurse had once entered to check on her but left soon after. These people weren't the most friendly ones she had ever encountered, that's for sure.

Her mind drifted back to the past and it hurt her more than it probably should. She had suffered from amnesia before, but it had not hurt as much. She knew not how such knowledge were part of her when said memories were not at her grip's mercy, but she was not about to look a gifted horse in the teeth. At least not yet, anyway.

There was something troubling her underneath about her foggy memories. There was some kid of urgency and danger there, and they made sure to creep up her spine every time she tried to remember. It put a nasty taste in her mouth she couldn't pinpoint. Of one thing she was sure, though: whatever secrets her memories held, they held the key for whatever had happened to her. So just wasn't sure if she wanted to know what it was all about, after all.

A soft breeze penetrated the open window and she took a moment to gaze back outside. The scenery was just the same from before, but the sun already started it's descent from the skies. Some clouds gathered here and there, too, and she wondered if there would be a downpour at night. It was possible. The climate of Blosa was quite rainy, after all.

Suddenly the door opened once more and in went the same doctor from before. She prepared herself for another round of questions and notes, and was not disappointed when he proceeded to do just that. The questions were slightly different and his tone a lot less caring than before, but they served the same purpose, anyway.

"Well..." He began after he had wrote down all he wanted. "We have absolutely no power to hold you here any longer, seeing that you have no..." he cleared his thought. "Physical injuries as of now. I won't lie and say that it would be my decision to let you go if I had any real say in this, but I believe that it won't bring you any harm to leave this room today."

She gave him a look. The man was a quite enigmatic person, and the thought of braving through his psyche and learning of what it was that drove him gave her a small trill. She didn't really knew where it came from, too.

"Look..." he rubbed at his neck. He was nervous about something. "Take this card" He handed her a small piece of paper that was far less soft than she expected. It had a sequence of numbers in one of it's faces. "It's the number of a friend of mine. He is a police officer and he might help you if you remember anything or feel like you are not safe."

"Your mother is waiting for you outside" he leaned back from the bed and gave a few coughs. Did he had a throat problem? "I would advice you not to show her the card."

"Why is that?" She titled her head. If the woman was her mother - which she knew she was not - shouldn't she let her know about a possible source of help? What was it that the man was hiding from her?

He looked at her as if she was the dumbest jester in the palace. It was but a second later that he wiped the look out of his face and offered her a far more professional one. It would have offended her if they discussed another topic, but something told her that she was, indeed, the dumbest jester in the palace.

"You know full well why, kid. Just don't show her and I know things won't go sour." He walked to the door and once more stopped to glance at her from above his shoulders. "I sincerely hope you reconsider your thought on that particular judiciary matter, Kiara. As your doctor, I don't believe such environment is healthy for you. But it is not my place to tell you what to do, so, if anyone asks you, I never said a thing."

Once more he left before she had the chance to question the oddity of his words. What the heck was he talking about, anyway? The way he spoke, the way he acted, it seemed as there was something terribly wrong with her parents - what a surprise! - and she just couldn't pinpoint what exactly it was. Whatever it was, she was sure she would know as soon as her memories were recovered.

She smiled despite all the trouble she was sure the future held in store for her. The doctor had called her by a name, and even though it had sounded far too foreign to her ears, she had something to call herself, and, for the time, it was more than enough.

"Kiara Craterside" she tested, and was pleased to notice the hoarseness was almost gone from her voice. It still sounded weird and too soft for her tastes, but it was all she had to deal with. Maybe it was best to just move on from such things and into the more troubling matters. Who knows what she might end up missing if she let her focus be held by such...small details, anyway?

She eyed the open door and waited a little while to see if anyone would enter it's metal frame. When no one did, she considered the option to simply fall back down on the bed and let it's crappy covers drag her into a dreamless, yet reinvigorating sleep. The ticking clock on the left wall told her that such thing was not an option, after all.

It was with shaky legs that she got up from the bed. She had the use a wall for support as she did so, but what really mattered was the ending result. It didn't took long for her to notice clothes folded on top of a nearby table. She was sure the doctor had told her to wear them sometime into their "twenty questions", but she did not knew when.

There was no ounce of doubt that they were better fitting than her current garments, and so it was with a heavy sigh that she approached them and put all her efforts in making herself presentable. There were no mirrors to help her, though, so she only hopped her hair wasn't as messy as she had previously seen through the window's reflection. She didn't knew why she cared, but it sounded like something important then, and she knew better than to mistrust her own self.

She wasted no time with small details, though, and pushed open the green hospital door. A blinding light suddenly assaulted her eyes - who knew hospital halls were so illuminated? - but she made sure not to keep her composure intact. She could barely recognize the presence of someone at the end of the hall, and it was with a heavy heart and a clenched stomach that she put her feet to good use and approached it's slowly focusing silhouette.


	2. Blood Ties

**Arch 1 - The Lost And The Damned**

 **Chapter 2 - Blood Ties**

It took some time for her eyes to adjust to the light and take in the true shape of the silhouettes around. She noticed random people milling around. Some of them were dressed in white garments quite similar to the doctor's own, but what caught her attention was the lone female sitting behind a wooden desk right beside a set of double doors.

Thoughts of the doctor's words crossed through her mind as her feet took her closer to the woman. Was her mother there? Was her one of the persons she walked by on her way to the desk? If she was there, had she spotted her already? And if she did, would she recognize her? What would happen if she didn't? What would happen if she did?

"Good to see you, Kiara!" The young woman smiled at her from behind a pair of glasses. She found herself smiling back, if only not to make her feel bad. "Your mother is waiting for you in the reception room."

"Thanks, Bells" she nodded and walked off through the doors. It was only when she heard the clank of the metal behind her that she realized what she had said. She somehow knew of the woman's name, even thought she had no memories of her. She forced herself not to stop her walk, fully aware she also knew where the reception room was located, too. It was all just too confusing and alien for her to make sense of, and her head made damn sure to throb in agreement with her thoughts.

It did not surprised her how soon she found the room. She saw strange people sitting in large green benches that reminded her of the ones she had laying around seen at the few schools she studied in.

She shook her head to clean it from the unwanted observations and surveyed the room. Other than the few people on the benches, only one man caught her attention, but only for his dark blue attire. He had a broom in one of his hands and plugs in his ears. His head bobbed to a song no one else heard as he cleaned the far corners of the room.

Her eyes moved around some more, and she spotted another person behind a desk that could had been a twin to Bella's own. This one was a male, though, and she was instantly annoyed by the look in his old face. Something about him made her nervous and uncomfortable enough to consider turning around and marching right back to her room. Before she could do so, though, her eyes locked with the ones that adorned a beautiful brunette's face. There was no doubt: it was her mother.

She offered the woman an awkward smile and approached her with reluctant steps. If the old man behind the desk made her unnerved, her mother made her completely terrified. It was like her legs had a vibrating function of their own and refused to turn it off. When she finally arrived in front of the woman, she didn't even knew anymore if her heart screamed out loud to the other people around, too, or if it reserved it's prowess to herself.

"Hi, mum" she offered as she tuck a stray hair behind her ear. She swiftly averted her eyes when all she received in response was a raspy grunt. It utterly shattered her ability to maintain eye contact with the older woman, and she had to abuse from a source of strength she didn't knew to possess for her body not to tremble to the floor.

She felt the pressure of her mother's hand on her right shoulder and forced herself not to wince. She had not squeezed her hard or harmed her in any way - quite the opposite, actually. Yet, even though her fingers moved slow circles on her shoulder, Kiara felt like they were starving beats ready to rip her flesh and bone for it's primal delight.

"You got me worried, kid." The brunette's voice was raspy and rough, but not overly so. And, even though there was something different in her mother's voice - something quite more mature and experienced - it still reminded her of her own. Or at least of the way her new voice happened to sound.

"I'm sorry" She mumbled with her head down low. She didn't knew why she had the urge to apologize, but there were no reasons for her not to trust her own self. There was something in her mother that made her want to please her - to befriend her. She wondered if that was the way everyone else felt when interacting with their parents.

"I already took care of all the papers" The woman dismissed her and turned around to face another set of doors. A big sign sparkled the word 'exit' just above it. "Let's go home. We have a long way ahead of us."

Her head nodded as she followed her mother outside, even though she could not see it. She was only slightly aware of the phone call the woman made, much more captivated by the sights around her. She could recognize the exact spot she had seen from the hospital window upstairs, and allowed her eyes to bathe in the foreignness that expanded from it in a burst of branches, leaves and unique architecture. Those were the last sights she saw before she was urged into a cab she hadn't noticed there before.

##

The ride from the hospital to their house was almost two hours long. She eyed the city with apprehensive curiosity, hoping to remember some of it's buildings and maybe the countless meanings beyond them, too. Unfortunately, though, she found nothing but the same sense of familiarity that overflowed her mind in the first place.

Flashing lights showed names she recognized and could not place. Her mind told her what kind of building would be the next after a corner she had never seen before. Her thoughts got tangled with blurry memories she could not comprehend, and for a second she feared her headache would show it's ugly head again. Thankfully, all it did was throb her head a little bit - nothing compared to the nightmare she had felt back in the hospital room.

Her mother had been as untalkative during the ride as she had been in the hospital. Maybe even more so, for she had refused to utter more than a few selected words about her father's excuses as to not be present at the hospital. Whatever she had said about him met it's demise by her brain's sudden inability to focus, though. It was amazing how interesting a bunch of kids playing on the streets could prove to be.

They had but arrived when the brunette complained about the excessive heat she suffered from her clothes and left to her room upstairs. It was no wonder, really, for she was dressed in a black jacket that looked like it was made with the fur of some overly hairy animal. A giant gorilla, mayhaps.

She was instructed to wait in the living room, but decided to take the chance to explore her "not really new" house. She took her time to visit every room downstairs, and when she found nothing but the most ordinary, boring and uninteresting furnitures, she felt disappointment far bigger than her original thirst for knowledge.

The whole place feed her a deep sense of incompatibility that refused to leave her alone. It brought up feelings of dread and fear she believed should had been alien, yet felt like a second skin. It seemed like the house itself had a maniac desire to make her feel as unwelcome and unwanted as it possibly could. In the end, though, it did not mattered how far and deeply she looked at it or how delirious her thoughts could prove themselves to be - that house was not her home.

She was about to sit down on one of the sofas in the living room when her mother's footsteps penetrated her ears. Her eyes slid up along the wooden staircase in the far corner, and she didn't had to wonder exactly how many steps it had, for she somehow knew they were twenty two. She controlled herself not to wince when she broke an eye contact she had not noticed to create.

"Look, kid" the woman descended the stairs, and, even though her hair was a horrible mess that her hands desperately tried to fix, Kiara couldn't deny how perfectly gracious her whole stance were. "Your father will probably be joining us later tonight, and we will be entertaining some guests in the morrow." she stopped moving but inches from her position, and waited for their eyes to meet before she continued. There was something different in her gaze, though. Something almost soft. "I suggest you go to your room upstairs. It has been an exhausting week for all of us, and I believe you could use the some rest."

"You do remember where your room is, right?" Her mother asked her before she could respond. There was clear trepidation in her voice, as if she dared not to voice the question, yet forced herself too, anyway.

"Yes, mother" she bowed her head and unlocked their eyes. She started towards the stairs, but her mother's voice halted her steps.

"Are you-" she coughed. "Are you keen on this new...ascent of yours?"

"I don't really know what you mean, mother." She made sure to pronounce every word carefully. She paid utmost attention to their sounds, yet found nothing wrong with them. Was it another side effect of her memory loss? If so...why?

"Just..." the brunette let out a long breath and ruffled her hair some more. "Just make sure not to push yourself too hard." She nodded at her mother and started her ascending. "And kid..." her mother interrupted her again, and she looked back at her. "It's good to know that you're okay." She smiled at her and climbed the remaining steps. The smile did not leave her face until hours later, when she was already laying down beneath the covers of her own bed.

##

She had thought the first hours after waking up would be the worst - that the headache, the dizziness, the completely lack of any sense of reality and the hollow inside her chest couldn't ever find a worthy enough rival to battle against. Reality itself took maniacal glee in proving her wrong, though, and was all too pleased to send her mind into a dangerous downward spiral she feared not to able to recover from. At least not while portraying such extreme lack of strength, that is.

Thoughts swarmed through her head like bees in a flower field. They made the world around her blur away from her eyes and the one inside her cease to exist. So many were her misfortunes that she did not even noticed the fluffiness of the pillow she crushed with her head, nor the cold breeze that swept through he window she had not bothered to close before.

Her heavy eyes closed and a deep breath escaped from the confines of her mouth. An overload of memories banged incessantly against her brain, but it remained resolute in his decision not to relent to their pleas. She had to bit back a groan when pain speared the side of her head and crawled through her veins like snakes on humid ground. The feeling made her wince and roll around beneath the sheets. It must had been the thousand time she did so in the past couple of hours, too.

As her mind fought against the pain, the dread and the fear, Kiara couldn't help but wonder what exactly tired her the most: the merciless pounding in her head, or the weakness that slowly claimed her bones. It did not mattered much in the end, of course, but all she had to entertain herself with were the pointless distractions her damaged imagination could muster, and they were not creative enough for her to take pride in, that's for sure.

What she did cared about was to rest her mind, body and soul. She had spent so many hours moving around the bed, hoping and fearing her father would arrive soon or that sleep would devour her whole at long last. The toll it all placed on her shoulders was almost too heavy for her to bear.

There was a sudden knock on her bedroom door, and she found herself inviting whoever it was inside. She breathed out a sigh of relief when the head that poked from the doorway was her mother's. Her relief was laid down to waste with the woman's words, though.

"Your father has recently arrived" she would rethink her mother's words later and find herself unable to shake off her doubt: was there bitterness disguised in the depths of her voice? The lack of 'sudden familiarity' that seemed to be an alter effect of her 'non memories' was quite the surprise, but her mother wasn't finished with her speech. "The table is all set and he wishes for you to come and dine with us."

They stared at each other's eyes for a while and it took her the whole time to realize an answer was expected from her. "I-" She sat up on the bed with a small cough, completely uncaring for the mess she just made of the covers. "I'll be downstairs in a moment, mother."

"Just don't go and keep him waiting." Her mother averted her eyes and prepared herself to leave. Her voice sounded weak...mayhaps even defeated. "You know how he gets when he's annoyed." She left before she could question her about what she meant. Was she a relative of the doctor from before? They sure as hell looked like twins in anything but looks...and maybe personality, too.

She promptly got herself up off the bed and began the journey to make herself presentable. Her mother had shown her to a pair of jeans and a white tank top she had thankfully not stripped herself from before she went to sleep. It was really complicated for her not to look at the mirror on her bedroom's wall, but she made it anyway. She only hoped not to leave her room with a bad case of bed hair when she didn't even had the chance to fall asleep in the first place.

A soft breath escaped her lungs when she finally pushed open the door. It's wooden frame cracked out loud and her feet took a hasty step backwards into the room. Her shoulders bore the weight of her inner turmoil and her throat the dryness of Sahara. Yet all she could do was to swallow down her trepidation and leave her "safe place" for the hallways, and from the hallways to the stairs and from the stairs to the kitchen. Her heart bounced inside her chest with every step she took, but her will to get it all done and over with screamed far louder than it's suffocated pleas.

She spotted her mother first. She sat on the left side of the square table and cast her a quick glance as soon as she entered the room. The dimmed lights seemed to cast her hair into a deep shadow that made them look far darker than she remembered them to be. This new vision reminded her of the ones she had seen reflected on the hospital window barely after waking up. Her mother's hair did seem healthier, though.

There was a plate of food on top of the table. It was filled with rice, beans and salad and it rested inches from her mother's place. She could spot a few small pieces of meat in there, though, so she probably wasn't undergoing some of her weird diets.

"It is good to see you in one piece." She heard a man's voice - her father's, no doubt - echo from another seat. His words sounded hollow to her ears and denounced his utter lack of enthusiasm. He did an amazing job of masquerading it underneath a caring tone of voice, thus she was sure her 'non memories' were the ones she should thank for such avid perception. "Come!" He gestured the table with his right hand. "Sit and dine with us!"

She eyed all the three vacant seats by the table side. There was one to his left and another to her mother's right. There was also a lone chair right across the table from his own, which would put her in his direct line of sight. His presence alone was enough to uneasy her to the core, though, and so she sat down by her mother's side. No one seemed to complain about her desired seat out loud. Maybe it was a normal occurrence from back when her memories were intact, or maybe they were just giving her space to recover and pretending not to notice any weirdness she might end up to perform. Whatever answer was the right one, she was thankful the diner had began with moderated success.

A long and intense silence stretched itself across the table. Her father was the only one oblivious to it's threatening presence, and was all too happy to chew away at his meat. Her mother was a different story, though, and, much like herself, she was completely unable to hide her discomfort. The way she moved her fork around the plate was just too obvious for one not to notice.

She took advantage of the atmosphere to observe her father's features, and couldn't help but be surprised by how older than her mother he seemed to be. He was not more than five years her elder, she knew, but time hadn't been his greatest ally. His hair was grey and his skin drier than her throat. It was a wonder how the thing had not peeled itself from his flesh, anyway. All considered, he did not looked like her at all.

"This tastes great, Caren." She heard him say from behind his chunk of meat. Her mother's vocabulary was rich and her words were spoken with elegance beyond the clutches of many, and, even though their house wasn't particularly big or filled with expensive furniture, it was already enough to raise some yellow flags in her head. But it was ratter clear how much of a moronic glutton her father could prove himself to be, and the fact her mother tolerated him was enough to tell she was not the one with money in their relationship. The possibility of the man being rich was as absurd as a child's fairy tale, and thus she gave it but a single thought. She had absolutely no idea about how the hell she was even able to deduce half of it, but complains were universes away from leaving her mouth.

"So..." He had the decency of dropping the chicken leg before addressing her. "What are you waiting for, brat? Dig right in, I say! This food is really awesome, you know?" Her mother's food wasn't five stars, sure, but it was definitively far from being bad. "It would seem your mother isn't completely hopeless in the kitchen, after all!" She forced herself not to narrow her eyes, even thought she was sure the man wouldn't had been able to see it, anyway. It was completely impossible for someone to make such delicious dish out of the blue. Not to mention someone 'completely hopeless in the kitchen'. Besides, what was the point of complimenting someone just to insult them right after it? That was a waste of time at best.

The rest of the diner was spent uneventfully if compared to it's roots. Her father's remarks were still present and her mother was just as quiet, but those things were growing familiar far faster than she hoped they would. It would seem that, unlike the way he looked, her father's words and tones were familiar to her ears - probably a side effect of her "non memories".

What startled her was their utter lack of questions regarding her hospitalization and subsequent amnesia. Her father had "jested" about what he called her "new accent", but that was hardly a questioning. Her mother had said something earlier, but had dropped the matter with nothing but a half-assed thought. She knew the doctor had informed them of her entire diagnosis, so why did they pretended like nothing was out of ordinary?

That night she slept without the decency of an answer.

##

Something woke her up in the middle of the night. She wasn't sure if it was the wind outside or her parent's footsteps in the hallway, but did not care either way. It was just too troublesome to open her eyelids and get up from the bed. In fact, it was frustrating how easily it was to wake her up after so many long hours of trashing around in the sheets.

She feared her nights were forever cursed to be her personal sleepless prisons - that she would not be able to rest as her body begged her to. It would be a dangerous thing to happen to her in her fragile state of mind, that's for sure. The doctor had warned her to rest both mentally and physically if she didn't wanted to meet up with him far sooner than both of them wished her to. It was far easier said than done, though. Maybe she should ask him for some kind of sleeping pills or something...

"They will be here before midday tomorrow..." She heard her mother say from the hallway outside. The woman had told her about guests joining them the next day - the present day, if her maths was correct -, and thus couldn't help but to listen to whatever else she had to say. Maybe it would help her to understand something more about what was happening to herself, even. If not, though, the at least she'd be gifted with some extra knowledge, at least. She wasn't about to turn a deaf ear to free information, that's for sure.

"Great. That's exactly what I need." It wasn't her hard for her to notice the sarcasm dripping from her father's words. She thought to had heard some sort of rage in it, too, but it was hard for her foggy brain to separate reality from dream. "A bunch of cops sticking their noses inside my own house."

There was a pause in their steps and she feared they had noticed that she was awake. She could not bring herself to understand why, but the thought of being caught sent terrifying shivers all over her spine. It was like she was the chosen prey of a pack of starving vultures, somehow, and the feeling was enough to raise alarm bells in her head.

She hoped it was all her mental fragility's fault. It wouldn't be so hard to explain why and how amnesia would be able to influence her perceptions and feelings, but it just felt like too easy of an answer for her to consider. Real life had a knack for being boring, she knew, but something about her situation did not bode well with her at all. Something was being kept from her, and she yearned to know what.

"Look" her mother's voice was almost soothing. Her chosen hurt sent a painful current directly to her brain. She felt like she should remember that word - like it had a meaning far beyond it's simple letters. Maybe it's pronunciation? Was it a favourite word of her mother? It would explain why it feel utterly foreign, yet extremely familiar at the same time. "There will be only two officers and they won't bother us, anyway." She heard a single set of footsteps regain it's life. It was hard and lacked the finesse she had come to know her mother for. "This is not about you, Joel!" Her mother hissed and she heard the footsteps halt. Was that her father's name? If so, then why didn't it sound familiar to her in the slightest? Another thing to blame her screwed up mind for, no doubt. "This is about her."

A tense silence spread through the hallway and she felt cold sweat drip down her forehead. What did she meant by that? Was her father a criminal? Was he one of those bastards who held nothing but disregard towards the law? Their conversation kept raising more and more red flags in her head that she feared the lack of sleep wasn't going to be her biggest worry when they were done.

"It better not be." His tone portrayed a warning she couldn't fully comprehend. She waited for his further words with bated breath, but they never came. All she heard afterwards was the soft cracking of wood as they retreated into their room across the hall. It made her sigh in relief for far more reasons than her tired brain was willing to process.

The winds picked up their speed outside as she rolled around in the sheets and cuddled into herself. She could hear the slamming of her parent's door but paid it no mind. Her head was already too full of questions for her own good, after all, and there was really no need to add anything else to her worry list.

What was it all about? Why was it that the police believed their presence was needed into their home so early in the morning? Was it because of her - of what happened to her? So many important questions, yet so little insufficient answers...

She sighed and rearranged her head on the pillow. Her bed wasn't the most comfortable of places to sleep and the cold and the anxiety weren't friends of hers, but she knew to have slept in far worse places, and was not about to complain. The endless possibilities of what such a fact could entail were not lost to her, but they were a matter for another time. Preferably one in which she did not feared her own parents and had her memories intact.

The bigger question of all was one she could never hope to run from, though. It was a dark, ominous cloud perpetually attached to the insides of her head. It's mere presence alone was enough to spike her anxiety and shake her limbs as if they were made of paper and sand. She was not so sure if she wanted that particular question to be answered at all, though...But what the hell had happened to her?


	3. Looking Glass, part 1

**Arch 1 - The Lost And The Damned  
** **Chapter 3 - Looking Glass, part 1**

 _Her feet ached from the distance she had moved through, yet she forced herself to run faster than before. She could hear the heavy footsteps from somewhere in her back, and the way the man kept shouting her name, but she refused to glance back. She knew there would be no turning back if she were to fall down on the street._

 _A car's light glared deep inside her eyes, and she used the opportunity to dash into the alleyway she was passing by. There were no lamplights in the short path to the next square, nor were there any flashing lights in the buildings around, but the embrace of darkness didn't felt safe to her at all. That's why she made the dumbest decision of her life, and hid behind some big trash cans she spotted nearby. She was so relieved that the man had lost sight of her and ran ahead on the street, that she only noticed the torch's light when it hit her square in the face._

She shot up on the bed and paid no mind to the way she threw the covers away. Her head hurt and her world twisted around like a child's toy, and it was almost too hard a battle for her to fight down the bile that crawled up her throat. She managed it, though barely, and focused on getting her breathing back on control. Shame took hold of her cheeks when she noticed how close she had been to passing out from the heavy intakes of air she forced lungs to take.

"It was just a dream" she told herself as she laid back down and stared at the ceiling for the many hours to come. It was all too vivid, though, and for a second she felt true fear that it could have been something more than that - that it could had been real.

She didn't had the time to ponder about it, though, for her mother's words soon reached her ears. "Kiara..." She said from the other side of the door. She didn't knock on it, though. "We have visitors downstairs." She made a small pause. "Make yourself presentable and join us, okay? It is really important that you do so."

There was no underlying urgency in her movements as she wore her clothes. She took her time to feel the fabric of her jeans against her thighs and of her shirt against her chest. It wasn't entirely alien, but felt somehow soft at first, as if she was used to something rougher and far less comfortable. If she had to guess, she'd say the most familiar garment was her underwear...even if it's format wasn't all that comfortable. But, then again, that might be the exact reason why she found it so recognizable in the first place. She shook her head and put on a simple pair of shoes. Anything seemed fair game to keep her mind off of that dream, it would seem.

She risked a glance at the clock and was surprised to see it was about to strike nine o'clock. Had she really been staring at the ceiling for that many hours? If so, that was a bad habit she would have to work out of her life as soon as she could. Her sudden daydreams were problematic enough, that's for sure.

Her curiosity outgrew her apprehension, and she found herself walking down the stairs before she could change her mind. She eyed the people around the living room as the wooden steps cracked under her weight. Her mother was engaged in conversation with two police officers she couldn't help but notice were females. The fact raised flags in her head for some odd reason.

It didn't take long for one of the officers to notice her arrival. She turned her body to face hers and gave her a professional, yet warm smile. "I take it you're Kiara?" She nodded at the blonde and accepted her offered hand. "I'm Detective Clearwater, and that is my partner, Detective Mickelson" She pointed to the redhead, who offered her a small nod she wasn't shy to return.

"Look" The woman continued before she could ask her the questions that twirled around inside her mind. "I know you must be greatly confused and filled to the brim with questions, but we have a job to do here, and it would be easier for us all if you could cooperate with us. Do we have a deal?" She nodded. People seemed to tell her that a lot. "Great." The woman seemed relieved. Did she really expect her to throw a tantrum or something? She hoped that wasn't part of her personality. "Tell me, Kiara, what you think about we take a small walk outside?"

##

Their 'small walk' consisted in three blocks and a bunch of senseless conversation that only served to make her uneasiness grow bigger than before. She understood the blonde wanted to make her comfortable for whatever news she had in store for her - if any -, but her plan was backfiring in quite the specular way. Her fear of what was to come kept her from voicing her concerns, but she was almost certain the officer knew exactly what she felt. Her hypothesis was proved right when she guided her into a park and gestured for them both to sit on a crippled bench.

"Your doctor told us you have a major case of amnesia." She began as soon as they had settled down on it's wooden surface. "And that the last 'real' memories you seem to have are of being inside your room during a stormy night. Is that accurate?"

"Yes, officer" She bowed her head and stared at the grass that fought it's way up from the ground. Shame reddened her cheeks by the admission, and she could do nothing but try and hide it together with her face. She had thought about wearing a jacket, but her wardrobe held an astonishing total of zero of them.

"You can call me Claire, you know?" Her voice was gentle and filled with warmth. It was enough to hold some of her anxiety at bay, and for that she was grateful. She showed her appreciation through a nod and a shy smile she wasn't surprised the older woman understood. "So..." She extended the word after an awkward silence befell their shoulders for a minute or so. "Remembered anything new since you left the hospital?" She shook her head and averted. "No?" She did it again. "Not even a tinny little bit?" She did it with a smile.

"I thought my clothes felt really weird this morning, if it helps" she offered hesitantly. There was no possible way it could help, but it was something she could share with her, and that had to be enough. She had a strange desire to be helpful to the woman she couldn't really explain. It was probably for the answers she could provide, so she paid no mind to it.

"Not much" the blonde admitted. "But we have to start somewhere, and that's a good place as any." She let out a puff of air and put her hands inside her jean's pockets. There wasn't anything else she could contribute with. "What about things from years ago, though?" She gave the woman her full attention. She hadn't thought about that before. Her focus was zeroed on whatever the heck had happened to her, that she lost track of the 'bigger scene'. "Do you remember anything from then?"

She gave it her best, yet it didn't seemed to be enough. Her memories were but inches from her fingers. She could feel them there, just waiting for her to pull them into their rightful places, but could never grab them, for they escaped every time they got close enough for her to touch. It frustrated her how fast it was for her brain to stop her from getting what she wanted - what was rightfully hers.

"I take it is a 'no', then?" She nodded and once more averted her eyes. "My face is up here, you know?" She did not responded. "You don't need to be ashamed of your amnesia - it isn't that different from a cold. What you need is to be easier with yourself, 'cause it's not by forcing your brain that your memories will come back." She understood that, she really did...but it wasn't fair. Every since she could remember things didn't go the way that would be good for her. From the hospital bed and her lack of answers to her parent's house and it's lack of 'home'. Was it really so selfish of her to want her memories back?

"Look, Kiara..." The woman took a long breath, as if to measure her own words. She seemed uncertain as to how to continue her speech, but she couldn't really blame her for it. "I'm not really sure if it's a good idea or even if it's safe at all, but I can try and talk about some...events that have been happening around the world these past years, and you could try and remember something about them. What you say? Are you willing to give it a try?" She nodded. She wasn't that confident on her own memory prowess, but there was nothing left for her to lose, anyway.

"Okay...let's start with recent stuff and try to go backwards, okay?" She nodded once. "Right." She waited for the officer to keep talking, but all she did was to point at the few kids having fun at the playground nearby. "What do you know about the mutants?"

"Nothing but what the doctor said to me after I woke up. That they have been found around for the last ten years or whatever..." The woman looked at her in a funny way. "What?"

"Oh, it's nothing. It's just that I didn't realized you had a British accent - that's all." It wasn't the first time someone had mentioned that to her. She couldn't really comprehend what they were talking about, though. She always spoke like that...or at least she thought so. Besides, people couldn't simply get amnesia and start speaking in different accents if they never spoke them before...could they? "Don't worry about it, though." She nodded. It was slightly unnerving how many times she had done so during their talk. "The mutants were officially found during the last fifteen years, but there were some 'anomalies' found on people before that. None of them had survived past their fifth year, though, so the 'anomalies' were labelled as a disease. Something happened - no one knows what - and now children born with that same 'anomaly' are able to survive and live like anyone else. Well...not really, since they can do some weird stuff, like producing iron from their hands and whatever. Anyway, it didn't stop people from trying to pursue a 'cure' for them, and to try and force them to take it. Wealthy people like Tony Stark-" She winced at the name, and the officer halted her words and gave her an apologetic stare. "Sorry about that. My sister's kid was born with that stuff in her body, so I tend to get carried away with it. Sorry if I bored you with it." She sighed. "I knew it wasn't a good idea, after all."

"No. It was quite interesting." She reassured the blonde, but could not take the wince out of her face. The pain in her head had resurfaced as soon as she had said that man's name. "You were talking about Tony Stark?"

"Yeah...well, are you sure you wanna hear the rest of it?"

"Yes. I think-" She coughed a bit to clean the dryness from her voice. "I think I remember him. Can you keep talking, please?"

"Okay...but I'm gonna stop it if you get pain anywhere. Deal?" She gave the officer a nod. "As I was saying, wealthy people like Tony Stark had helped funding the researches on the gene, but they cut off their support as soon as the guys involved tried to force teenagers to try out their 'vaccine'. This caused a riot and..."

##

They spent half an hour browsing through different topics since they first started with the mutant one, but they didn't reach anywhere by the end of it. She knew that it was all due to what exactly they spoke about, and not due to the method itself. Tony Stark's name still echoed around in her head and brought up a varying arrange of painful stabs, after all. She needed to change the flow of their conversation, and she needed to do it fast.

"...And that's why they call those red fishes 'the real thing'...whatever they mean by that." They stared at each other for a little while and the blonde offered her an awkward smile. "I believe it didn't help you, after all, did it?"

"No-" She halted herself mid-speech. "I mean, yes, it did help me somehow."

"But?"

"But it wasn't enough." She admitted. "I think I need something...more." She gazed at the officer's face. "Could you tell me something else about that Stark person?"

"Y-yes, of course" The woman checked her watch and fumbled a few times with it. "But we need to be quick about it. I AM working on a schedule, after all."

"Thank you" She found herself smiling at her. There was nothing 'ultra rare' about the officer's willingness to proceed with their talk - even more so when she was clearly a blabbermouth -, but something deep inside her guts told her it was the right thing to do. It wasn't the first time something like that happened to her, too. "So..." She dragged the vocal long enough for her to form the perfect question in her head. "Who exactly is this 'Tony Stark' guy?"

"Well, Tony Stark was many things during the past couple of years, and he was never a 'small fish' before all that, too." She spoke as if reading it straight from a textbook. There was no familiarity in her voice. "I do believe he wouldn't be able to disappear if he wanted to, but it is really obvious that if there's something he really doesn't wants to do, it is to be out of the spotlight."

"He's that bad, then?" She could vaguely recall of someone like that. But, as far as she knew, it could be anyone else. The world was filled to the brim with people who didn't wanted to share the spotlight, after all.

"Not bad, just..."

"Eccentric?" She offered.

"Exactly." The woman nodded at her and made sure to shake her head to her next words. "Stark is always doing what everyone tells him he's not able to, and takes great pleasure in knowing he made it in the end. Though many judge him from his decision to 'be a guard dog', he is still kicking his Iron Man suit once in a while. They say a strange guy in a cloak took him through a portal or something these past days."

"Iron Man suit?" Now that sounded familiar. But, then again, it wasn't easy to understand exactly what each kind of pain was supposed to mean. If he was such a known figure around, it was no wonder his name wasn't alien to her...

"Yes. He used to build weapons and sell them to whoever had enough money to pay, but then he 'changed his heart' and began to make weapons for himself to use. Nobody knew it was him, at that point, of course, but the bastard had the guts to show his face and tell the world 'Truth is...I am Iron Man'." She made her voice deeper, as if that would help her recall it better. It didn't, but she wasn't about to tell her so.

"And was that and the mutant thing his only...magnificent moments?"

"Well, they say he formed the Avengers" She forced herself not to scream. The pain was so intense she sewed her eyes shut and gripped her head with both of her hands. "What's wrong?" She barely registered the woman's voice. There was a loud ringing in her ears and there was no doubt that she'd pass out if it kept going like that. "Shit, I knew this wasn't a good idea!" Arms pulled her back to the bench - when had she stood up? - and it was gone way faster than it took to begin. Only an uncomfortable headache remained as proof of it's existence. "Are you alright, Kiara?" She shook her head. Things were still too blurred for her tastes. "Kiara?"

"I'm fine!" Her eyes locked with the officer's, yet she refused to step back. She instantly felt bad for the harsh way she had answered to her concerns, though, and made quick work of averting her eyes. "I'm fine now, thanks."

"Are you sure?" She nodded, but didn't stared away from the grass. Where were those kids when she needed a good distraction? "Okay...okay." The relief on the woman's voice was palpable. She felt, ratter than heard the woman sitting back down on the bench. "I think it's best if we stop with this while we still haven't damaged your health."

"Shit. I don't think I can deliver you the news I was supposed to, now..." She wasn't meant to hear that part, that's for sure. But it picked her interest enough for her to gaze deep into the blonde's eyes. "Shit."

"Which news?"

"I'm not sure I should tell you right now." It was the woman's turn to avert her eyes. "I'll come back later and then-"

"Miss Clearwater..." Her begging sounded pitiful to her own ears, but she couldn't muster enough strength to care. She didn't meant to reach for the detective's idle hand, but didn't bothered to leave it alone after she noticed it. "Please. I have the right to know."

"I never said you didn't, but-"

"Please, Claire. Ever since I woke up on that hospital bed I've been trying to remember who I am - what I am -, and nothing ever makes sense. When I think I finally have it figured out, something else happens and I'm back at that bed. Please-" Her voice broke. "Please, don't take this away from me, too."

"I..." She saw her hesitate, and was surprised when she snaked her arms around her neck and pushed her against her side. It was comforting and warm, yet lacked something she couldn't really place. It was her troublesome mind's work, no doubt. "It will be alright, sweetie" The woman whispered against her ears.

"Tell me." She begged her again, and her eyes widened when she finally did.

##

 **[TW: Mentions of Past Sexual Abuse]**

She eyed the mirror with a blank stare. The red towel she threw over it was still present. It perfectly covered it's reflective surface, yet couldn't hide it's borders. Her eyes traced the intricate decorations carved all along the wood, and desperately tried to notice something to remember them by.

Sheer irony swallowed her whole as the clock ticked by on the bedroom's wall. It was fascinating how fast her plans had morphed with the uttering of a single word. She had gone all the way from "desperate to remember any scarps from her past" to "desperate never to remember anything about her past ever again", only to settle with "desperate for the hollow to leave her be".

"Kiara..." The blonde started. Her voice still echoed perfectly in the depths of her mind. "We found undeniable evidence that you were a victim of sexual abuse." She remembers the way the woman's arms had held her right then. It was almost enough for her to feel safe. Kiara...we found evidence that you were raped."

The memory made her shiver in the most disgusting of ways. What fuelled the hollowness in her core wasn't the realization of what regaining her memory would entail, though. It was the realization of how small her feelings seemed to be in comparison to what happened to her. She didn't knew if it was her lack of memories that prompted her not to fell what she thought she should, or if the severity of the situation was yet to sink in, but it didn't really mattered, after all. All that mattered was to feel something - anything that would make the hollow go away. Unfortunately, it never left.

She shook her head and focused on the extra memories she had. Many things had happened since her conversation with the detective. Her mother had hugged her tight and cried on her shoulders long enough for the officers to leave unnoticed by her; they ate the best lunch she could recall, even though it didn't meant much for her to say it; they talked about some silly things and she held her mother for a little while longer, as she emptied her eyes once more; and when the sun settled down and the moon rose up in the sky, they dined with surprisingly lightness in their hearts. Most - if not all - of it was due to her father's absence, but none had the courage to say it out loud.

Her eyes closed tightly as she ripped the towel off the mirror's glass. It slipped away from her grasp and she felt it brush against her bare legs as it tumbled down to the floor.

It was with a shaking pair of knees and a bunch of gritted teeth that she forced herself to gaze at the mirror's reflection for the very first time. The lights were brighter than she remembered them, but they didn't obfuscate the figure staring back at her. If anything, they painted it with ethereal contrast.

The vision was utterly breathtaking and more than enough to captivate the depths of her core. She observed the way the young woman's short black hair cascaded down her neck to form the tiniest of spikes, and was mesmerized by the way her dark blue eyes stared straight at her own. They looked so hollow that her hands reached for them, only to be blocked by a shield of glass. It took her quite a while to escape the turmoil of her thoughts and understand who exactly she stared at - to understand that it was her, and no one else but.

She used her other hand to touch her short hair, and watched as her reflection duplicate her every move. It was a perfect copycat of herself, and, even thought she understood full well that it but an ordinary thing, it also felt too alien for her messed up brain to comprehend. She didn't held any form of dislike for her appearance. No. She rejoiced at the colour of her skin, the brightness of her eyes, the shortness of her hair, and even at the small scar that cut down beneath the supports of her black bra. But it still felt overbearingly awkward for her. It was like staring at the face of a twin - so familiar, yet so different at the same time.

Her reflection's eyes blinked when hers did not, and she knew that it wouldn't end well. She touched both her palms to the mirror's image and was surprised when all it did was to stare at her own eyes in return. Suddenly, it's lips curled back and six words echoed from the depths of it's glassy mouth: "I think we need to talk."


End file.
